D-18363 Foundation Journal
by BuisnessSloth
Summary: Life in prison was supposed to be the end of the road, a meaningless life, one wasted. An offer by an SCP Agent changes that for Michael, soon to be D-18363. He receives a journal from the Foundation and begins to document his experiences there, the SCPs, the testing, and the other D-Class he comes to know.
1. Day One

I got this journal from the Foundation, so I suppose I should write in it. Do they want us to write in this? Are they going to read it later? Probably.

My old name is Michael Harris. My new name is D-18363. It feels so impersonal, makes me think of old Nazi camps. I suppose we aren't really supposed to be people here, the batshit professor doing the orientation didn't really treat us like we were.

I suppose I should get my thoughts out?

I'm at a place called the 'SCP Foundation', whatever that stands for. I was in prison for life. A guy came up to me, said I could get out, only had to do a few months of community service, show my nation I cared. Obviously, I fucking jumped. It's a worse deal than he made it out to be, that's for sure.

I might die soon, if I'm thinking honestly. The scientist telling us about our new situation said so many terrifying things. That the last group of D-Class, they lost twelve people. He said that we would probably die, just flat out, and then started laughing his ass off. Asshole.

But, no time for that. Gotta stay positive, 63!

I'm in a room with three other D-Class guys, two bunkbeds, we all share a dresser (I think they separated us out on who all had the same shoe and jumpsuit size). There's D-10147 (Formerly Jeremiah Smith), he's got a thick beard going that I think they're gonna have him shave, and he's pretty tall. Then there's D-29178 (Formerly Kurt Harris), he's lanky and gaunt, looks like a wind could dismantle him. Finally, there's D-56910 (Formerly Anthony Hogg). He seems kind of skittish, but in a dangerous way. Like if you move weird around him, he's ready to stab. Since we all have different ending to our IDs, we go by that. I'm 63 now, friends with 47, 78, and 10.

I'm gonna miss my old name.

Whatever.

The new clothes are a garish orange, and the rest of the facility (from what I see) is mostly just monochrome whites and blacks. The doctors wear white coats and black slacks, the janitors wear white shirts and dark pants, it feels like we're wearing these jumpsuits so they can stare at us as we walk down the hallway, thinking to themselves, that's a D-Class.

This whole place gives me chills, too, it's so cold, impersonal. And what's behind those walls? Some of them look thick, you don't even have to look at the sides of them, you can just tell from how they sit. It's unsettling. The guy who recruited me, he wasn't too up-front about what kinda work I'd be doing.

The crazy researcher who let us know the gist of what we'd be doing here wasn't all that open, either, but I feel like I'm going to die before I've done all my service hours and it'll be a joke to them.

They're calling us for dinner now. I wonder what it'll be?

\- 63


	2. Day Two

I made a friend. I think. His name is D-96761.

He's quiet but nice, maybe we'll enjoy each other's company. I don't know.

Oh, I found out that there's three people permanently working with us, and I even got their names! We've got Mr. Ness, Ms. Richardson, and Mrs. Toven. When I asked Ness and Richardson what they did here, they got angry at me and told me to get back in line for food, so I think they might be our guards and stuff, keeping the peace and whatnot. They have different uniforms from the other guards, at least. Toven seems nicer, but acts unsettled by D-Class. She's a janitor.

Meals here aren't too bad, but it reminds me a bit of high school food. Today seems to be mostly us trying to fit in, finding the schedule they have us on. I've heard from some of the other D-Class that someone said if we behave, we get to have coffee or candy, or time on the internet.

47 had to shave his beard today, and I kinda feel bad for him. He looks different now, holds himself more strangely. Looks like he's not right in his body. Is he religious? Or how long has he had the beard for?

I'm starting to realize 78, despite how gangly and awkward he looks, is super charismatic. He's sweet, knows his way with words, even got himself some extra chicken today at lunch! He's pretty cool and smart, and I kind of wonder how he ever ended up in prison. He's the kind of guy you automatically assume the best from.

78 seems like he could slip out of a 'guilty' a lot easier than the rest of us. He plays people like fiddles, keys with heartstrings on the level of Mozart. You kind of have to love him. It makes me wonder what he did to deserve a life or death sentence. Was it so bad that they had to incarcerate him? He's smart enough not to leave evidence.

Despite the guards crawling through the D-Class halls, I wonder if he'll try anything. He might be able to get out of it relatively unharmed and unpunished, and I'm thinking about maybe making something to defend myself with. Although, that might come in handy more later.

I've heard rumors, from the few of us who saw their first SCP ('skip'?) in the day and a half we've been here. They whisper about the terrible shit behind those thick, thick walls, not really saying much. The scientists tell us we have to keep it all confidential and stuff like that, but really, nobody's lips are sealed. They said they're wiping our memories when we get out of here, anyways, so what's really the point?

The whispers say things like this: Sharp teeth, strange images, hallucinations and weird garden paths.

The worst rumor I've heard, though, is this: The 'D' in D-Class stands for Disposable.

Will I die in here?

I don't think they read this thing, but. How deep does this shit go? How often do the D-Class die? What do they make us see? Is the memory-wiping bullshit for how classified they are, or for us, so we don't go insane from the shit they show us here?

-63


	3. Chapter 3

SCP-2458... Addendum 2458-1: Experiment Log... Experiment 2458-Q

...

ACCESS GRANTED

...

Player: D-7294

Listeners: D-91045, D-2012, D-18363, D-927

Work: The Four Seasons: Spring

Results: The listeners dance in circular patterns and making similar, erratic movements with both arms and legs. Approximately four minutes into the test, D-18363 and D-2012 began to act erratically, breaking from the dance to attack D-91045 and D-927. At five minutes, D-927 began assisting D-2012 in the removal of her eyes, and D-18363 began to consume D-91045's neck. D-7294 was instructed to stop playing. They complied.

D-927 was blinded, and D-91045 was placed in critical care. As of writing, likeliness of expiration is low.

**D-18363's Private Journal**

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

hands won't stop shaking

stopstopstopstop

I hurt somebody

There. I wrote it down, I fucking hurt someone. I didn't mean to, there was this instrument, a cello maybe? Shit, was does the instrument matter. I think about it. I didn't mean to hurt them. I didn't. It was haunted, something like that. I couldn't control myself, I didn't mean to.

But. So.

We're brought to a room, and there's someone, another D-Class, with a cello. There's four of us in total, two men and two women. We dance for a bit. I don't mean to dance, one minute I'm sitting in a metal chair, five seconds later, I'm dancing in a circle with them. We chant some, move some, etc. I was freaked, of course, scared even, but I thought that was it. A cello that made you dance, doesn't seem that bad. Then we hit something like five minutes, and my mind blanks.

It was everything and nothing, the sensation. The music made me do it, I'm sure.

Me and one of the girls stops dancing. We separate from the group, wait for a couple seconds. I wasn't sure what I was waiting for. Then we weren't waiting anymore.

I can still taste her blood fuck

I didn't want to. I really didn't want to. It made me, it made me. How much worse will it get? What will I have to do? My first day, I fucking killed hurt someone. What else is here? Is this hell?

I should've stayed for life.

**Interview Log: D-18363-1**

Date: January █, 20██

Interviewer: Dr. Noata

Interviewee: D-18363

Notes: The reason for interview is evaluation of D-18363's psyche, and to test how the effects of SCP-2458 affected them.

[BEGIN LOG]

Dr. Noata: So, D-18363, how are you?

D-18363: Did I kill her?

Dr. Noata: Please answer the question.

D-18363: Fuck. I'm fine, perfectly okay. What happened to her? Is she okay? I know you're a doctor, you've gotta know!

Dr. Noata: Would you please describe the effects of SCP-2458?

D-18363: The cello? (Dr. Noata nods) Hell. It was scary. I didn't mean to, you know. I didn't want to hurt her. It made me. That fucking cello made me. It made us dance. It was like you couldn't control yourself, I swear. I didn't wanna hurt her, I mean it. She. She didn't even defend herself, did she? Did that fucking cello do that?

Dr. Noata: Causing erratic actions among listeners is among SCP-2458's anomalous properties, yes.

D-18363: Did I kill her? I didn't. Right? I couldn't have. That's. I can't kill someone like that.

Dr. Noata: I'm afraid I'm not able to disclose that information currently.

[END LOG]

**Addition Made Post-Interview by D-18363 to their Private Journal**

(Overlapping, indescribable words, taking up approximately a page and a half precede the entry)

I'm almost certain they're reading my journal now. I mean, yeah, I was probably bothered that I killed hurt somebody, but I was in life for a reason. They have to know I'm unstable about it.

I still wish I could apologize.


End file.
